


Marylock ficlets

by pennypaperbrain



Series: Pennypaperbrain's Miscellaneous Ficlets [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Asexual Sherlock, BDSM, Breathplay, D/s, F/M, M/M, Multi, Sub Sherlock Holmes, dom mary morstan, graphophilia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-22
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-03-31 18:23:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 1,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3988132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pennypaperbrain/pseuds/pennypaperbrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a collection of the Marylock 221bs I've been writing lately. They will be added to every now and then. They're in no particular order, and don't form a coherent whole - for example sometimes John is very much into proceedings and sometimes he's freaked out; and sometimes Mary is pregnant and sometimes she isn't.</p><p>The basic characterisation is set, though: straight kinky Mary, ace kinky homoromantic Sherlock and desperately-trying-to-be-straight-and-vanilla-but-fighting-a-losing-battle repressed John.</p><p>Some of the ficlets are - hopefully - just hot, some are twisty, and some a little sad. Like most things I write the BDSM in these stories is based on RL practice but is clearly not a how-to manual.</p><p>EDIT: I just added this to the We Love Johnlockary collection. This brought my attention to the fact that only one of these is uncomplicated happy Johnlockary. Time to add some more!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Air and Water

**Author's Note:**

  * For [faerymorstan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/faerymorstan/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bathroom breathplay

Sherlock likes to wallow in the big old bath at 221b. Efficient, ex-army John prefers to shower.

After a day of chasing criminals, Mary tells her boys to go and clean up.

‘I’ll need you for something,’ she says.

Soon after Sherlock sinks into the bath, Mary comes in naked. The only sound is John’s running shower.

‘Stay still,’ she murmurs to Sherlock, and leans over the side of the bath.

With one hand on his neck and the other in his hair, she pushes him down until only his nose is above the surface.

‘Good boy,’ Mary says. Then: ‘All right, go on,’ as Sherlock’s getting stiff – not unheard of as a reaction to a situation, if not to Mary as such – and his hand is wavering in the water near his cock as if unsure of permission.

Mary allows half a minute, then climbs over to straddle him.

‘Mine, not yours,’ she says, batting his hand firmly away.

Mary clenches her legs, and grinds. Then she shoves Sherlock right under the water and stares into his eyes.

‘Stay still,’ she warns him again. The smile is gone.

His hands slip under her knees, and she pins them down. Occasionally she allows him up for air.

They enjoy themselves to the rush and hiss of the shower, and John’s breathing.


	2. Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is John up for this?

‘Come over here and kiss him,’ Mary orders John.

Sherlock is standing bare-chested in the 221b living room with his arms cuffed behind him. John is in the kitchen, wearing his extremely British ‘I’m making tea because it’s teatime, and anything happening nearby is totally unremarkable’ expression. All he’s ever said about … about this is, ‘As someone pointed out, I didn’t take up with you two because you’re normal.’

John doesn’t drop his plate with a comical TV clatter, but Mary can see something of the kind happening behind his eyes. She smiles encouragement.

And John takes a step towards them. Sherlock is smiling too now; weakly, awkwardly. Mary is about to turn away because this moment should be private…

John presses the back of his hand to his mouth. ‘I just can’t,’ he announces, and storms upstairs.

Shit. Shit. Mary really does look away, because she’s humiliated Sherlock far more deeply than any sexplay could. Staying behind him, she uncuffs his hands and puts an arm around his waist. Should she make a joke? About wanting a hot gay sex show, or something…

‘I’m sorry,’ she says. ‘I misjudged.’

Sherlock doesn’t say anything for a long while. Then he leans his cheek against the top of her head.

‘Not entirely,’ he says. ‘Would John have got that far before?’


	3. Marker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's in a name?

Sherlock stands there half-naked, unbound, and Mary covers his arms and chest.

Not with kisses, which he sometimes accepts for her amusement, or with bruises, which please them both, but with words. A hundred times she writes ‘freak’, large and small, in bold capitals and whimsical italics, forwards and backwards so that when she brings a mirror he sees half the insults stark and half thinly coded. Rather like the way they’re served to him aloud.

‘One day you’ll tell me why she calls you that,’ says Mary. The scent of ink lingers, mixed with her perfume. ‘Anyway, the word’s yours now, Sherlock. Own it.’

Sherlock nods, turning to view himself from new angles. There’s a hurt child inside him, but today it connects with the adult who sees. Worse than ‘freak’ is denial of that name, as if normality were some great prize.

‘And yours?’ he asks Mary.

She starts, the sharpie slipping as she caps it. When she doesn’t shrink back, Sherlock gently takes the pen, unbuttons the top of her blouse, and marks her MONSTER.

‘Ah,’ Mary says, after a silence. ‘Close enough, yes.’

Sherlock licks his fingers, and smears the word into her skin. Mary pulls him down, rough and precise. Where she scrawled FREAK across his scar, all things blur in the warmth of her breast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am, however slowly, writing a Sally/Sherlock fic which does give a version of 'why she calls you that'. It's probably not part of this continuity, though.


	4. Normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It Jude birthday! Happy birthday. Cue Marylock-221bs-verse origin story.
> 
> Actually it not Jude birthday at time of tumblr posting. It day before. But tomorrow I will be working and getting on a plane to Kiev.

‘Oh my god, if my dickhead husband won’t top you, I will,’ Mary said. ‘You’re gagging for it.’

Sherlock froze at his keyboard. Then he did the brow twitch that meant he was reviewing a statement against received data, and turned to look at her.

‘You’re confusing automatic biological reactions with volition,’ he said.

That was better than _yuck, no_. Mary approached Sherlock slowly, and he stayed in his seat.

‘Actually, I’m going by subtle hints like the bulge in your trousers when John does his soldier routine. Look, Captain Repressed might never shag you, and maybe you don’t even quite want that, but… it doesn’t have to be about sex. So. If you need me to stop, just say “stop”.’

Sherlock went still again as she leant over him, her bump almost in his face, and pulled the hair on the top of his head. She tugged harder, backwards, staring into his eyes that turned up towards her. They slid shut, and he whimpered.

 _Yes._ Mary’s heart pounded, and the baby joined in with a kick.

After half a minute, she let go. ‘Hypothesis proven, I think,’ she said softly, still studying his face. ‘Hey. Are you worried a bit of masochism makes you a freak?’

Sherlock glared scorn, and replied with self-disgust, ‘It makes me a normal human being.’


	5. Put Your Feet Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Footstool Sherlock

Sherlock is currently a footstool: naked, gagged, blindfolded, and trussed into position in front of the sofa.

(Valuable data: asexuality does not prevent one from being what is considered a ‘pervert’. The combination of immobility and the dirty chemical thrill that runs through him create an effect complementary to concentration and nicotine patches – an unfolding mental space that snubs logic but stimulates the often equally valuable slide and spark of association and instinct.)

He loves to hear the sigh that says ‘I feel like a whale, but my boys are good to me’ as Mary settles in.

He also feels safe, and he is starting to drift.

Until the weight vanishes, and he hears a creak from across the room. Sadistic Mary has dared to sit on his chair. Sherlock lets out a choked bellow of outrage.

That’s when the landlady enters. Sherlock hears Mary scramble up awkwardly. Damn, he thinks through the haze. Boring explanation time.

‘Oh, how lovely!’ exclaims Mrs Hudson. ‘I always thought he’d like that sort of thing, but there’s no telling some people.’

‘It’s a waste of good food, bringing it to you, anyway,’ she directs at Sherlock.

A plate is placed on his back. Mrs Hudson trips away. Sherlock lets go and is happy as Mary returns, puts her feet up and eats his biscuits.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A skinny appendage.

The hour is late, the lights are low, and Mary stands half-leaning against an armchair as she kisses her handsome husband. It’s long, lingering, loving, and…

… a skinny and extremely chilly appendage inserts itself between them.

‘Bloody hell!’ protests John, pulling away.

They both peer over the chair-back.

Sherlock has managed to position himself upside down so that his scalp is brushing the floor and his knees are hooked over the headrest. He cranes smugly up at them.

‘You’re cold,’ Mary informs him.

‘Warm me up, then!’ Sherlock instructs, wiggling his ludicrous toes.

Mary goes around the chair. Sherlock sticks his arms out and flails all four limbs at once. ‘Also: bored,’ he announces.

‘If you fall on your head you’ll be sorry,’ she responds.

‘Nah, padded,’ retorts Sherlock. ‘What do you think the hair’s for?’

‘This,’ says Mary, and nods to John.

The next second, Mary has Sherlock by the hair and under his shoulders, while John grips his calves. Sherlock howls in pain while flapping his arms in a way that suggests remarkably little desire to resist.

The hour is late, the lights are low, and Mary is seated (mostly) on the sofa, kissing her handsome husband. It’s long, lingering, loving, and all the hotter for the well-positioned cock of the skinny bastard pinned squirming under her backside.


End file.
